The Last Hour of Hermione Weasley
by Salivour
Summary: Spain had just scored their sixth goal in the World Cup semi finals on the WWN when Ron heard a thump from outside.


M-rated for mild descriptions of medical procedures and blood.

Word Count: 1,367

Written for Assignment 16: Sorrow Stone: Obsidian - Write about a protective character.

* * *

It was a fine day at the Weasley's residence as they prepared to celebrate Hugo's forty-sixth birthday. A little cold for Ron's tastes, but every now and again the sun would come out and warm everything up nicely. He was in the kitchen, cutting up carrots for the salad while his wife, Hermione, was outside fixing a loose tile on the roof.

Spain had just scored their sixth goal in the World Cup semi finals on the WWN when Ron heard a thump from outside. He frowned and put the knife down. "Hermione?" he asked, craning his head slightly to look out of the window. He received no answer, but shrugged and went back to his carrots.

But something nagged at Ron. "Hermione?" he called again.

There was no answer. Ron frowned, it was probably just a bird dropping a pine cone on the roof or something, but still, something bothered him. He again set down the knife and went outside to check, just in case. He went into the backyard, glancing around at the neat flowers and shady trees. There was nothing, but he should just check down the side and make sure Hermione was alright. Ron stuck his head around the corner to look down at the pebbled path and -

"Hermione!"

Ron raced to his wife, who was slumped, half conscious against the house. Ron dropped to his knees at her side. Hermione didn't even glance at him, eyes unseeing. Ron lay a hand on her shoulder. What happened?" he asked.

Hermione looked almost towards Ron, her eyes trying to focus on a point over his shoulder. "I fell?" she said. Her voice was clear, but the answer seemed to be more of a question. For two beats, Ron stared at his wife. Then, he said, "I'm taking you to St. Mungo's."

Ron apparated Hermione to St. Mungo's, staggering as he landed. When she saw them, the bored witch sitting behind the reception desk sprung into action.

" _Accio bed_ ," she called. Ron watched as Hermione was deposited onto the floating bed, then quickly the bed began to move. He hurried along to stay beside his wife, only half listening to the Assistant Healer rapidly asking questions.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I don't know," said Ron, shaking his head. "I heard a thump, came outside and she was like this."

"Any recent spell damage? Has she taken any potions today?"

"No, no," said Ron.

The woman nodded, jotting something down on a clipboard she'd produced from her lilac robes. "What was she doing before you found her."

"She was fixing a tile on the roof," said Ron slowly. The thump he had heard hadn't been her falling, had it? But then, she should have bounced. The bed turned a corner and entered a small, private room. Ron groaned as he saw white blonde hair.

"He's not treating my wife," said Ron.

Draco Malfoy eyed him flatly. "I'm the Healer on duty at the moment," he said.

"No way," said Ron, "I'm not letting you near Hermione."

Malfoy's lips tightened. "Your wife is in a serious condition. You need to allow us to do our jobs."

"If you hurt her…" threatened Ron. He watched Malfoy closely as he ran scans on Hermione, wincing at each spell from Malfoy's wand hit his wife. When Malfoy had finished his scans, he frowned as he looked over the parchment. He glanced at the assistant and said in a blank voice, "She's got a brain haemorrhage."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Ron snarled. "Her head's fine!"

Malfoy sighed. "From what I can see, she's hit the back of her head. There's a bleed inside, putting pressure on her brain. We need to drain the blood, alright?"

Ron looked at Hermione's pale face, her eyebrows knitted tightly together and breathing heavily. "When's Rose getting here?" she asked.

"I'll floo her later," said Ron, kneeling down beside her to clasp her hand in his own. "When I know you're okay."

Ron picked up her hand and kissed it, keeping it tight to his chest. "Fine," he said to Malfoy. "But I want a proper Healer as soon as possible."

Malfoy ignored Ron, instead spelling Hermione onto her side. The assistant placed a shallow bowl at the base of her skull. Ron stood up, eyes wide. "What are you doing?" he asked worriedly.

Malfoy was feeling around the back of Hermione's head for something. He seemed to find whatever he was looking for and marked it with his finger. "I'm going to have to drain blood," Malfoy explained. "You'll see it coming into the bowl here."

Ron bunched his fists up. Why did Malfoy have to do this to Hermione? He'd just hurt her, they should wait for a proper Healer! But then, Hermione gave a loud groan, bordering on a scream. "Fine," Ron bit out.

Malfoy gave him a looked crossed between concern and calculation, before continuing to point his wand at the back of Hermione's head as the blood continued to drain. Ron felt vomit rise in the back of his throat, and fought to not throw up at the sight. Every now and then the assistant would perform a spell on the blood and Ron could only hope that it had gone back into his wife.

"Ron….Ron…." Hermione said, her voice was slurred. "When's Rose getting here?"

Ron frowned. "I said I'll floo her later, alright," he said, squeezing her shoulder.

"Ron…?"

Ron knelt down next to his wife, taking her hand in both of his. "What is it, darling?"

"Am I going to die?" Hermione asked. That more than anything, scared Ron. He shook his head, unable to get to words out, perhaps because he didn't quite believe them.

Again, Malfoy looked at him with that look of concern and calculation. It made Ron want to punch him, Malfoy had no right being anywhere near this. "You may have to be prepared for…" Malfoy began to say before Ron was on his feet.

"Prepared for what?" Ron snapped. "If we had a proper healer-"

"I am a proper healer," Malfoy bit back. "I'm doing my best-" He broke off as he head snapped to the head from the fist Ron had brought down on the side of his head.

"You're not doing anything!" Ron shouted. "I want to proper healer here now. They'd fix her."

"I'm sorry," said Malfoy, and Ron hated that he sounded almost genuine. "But no healer could do more than I'm doing now."

"Yes they could," Ron said, "they'd do a bloody sight more than a Death Eater."

For the first time, Malfoy's voice rose. "I'm not-"

He broke off as Hermione gave a gurgled groan. The assistant who had been watching them both silently said quietly, "I think she may be going unconscious."

Ron shook his head rapidly in denial. "No, no," he said, "she's going to be fine." He watched fearfully as Malfoy again ran his wand over Hermione, his mouth set. When Malfoy didn't do anything Ron shouted, "Do something!"

"I'm sorry," said Malfoy. He barely reacted when Ron shoved him as hard as he could.

"Why won't you do anything," asked Ron, his voice broken.

Malfoy took a deep breath before answering, "Part of her brain is bleeding, so another part isn't receiving the blood supply it needs. Unfortunately that part that's being affected is in charge of her heart. I'm sorry, but there is nothing we can do."

Ron felt tears prickle in his eyes as he shook his head. "No," he said, and turned to the assistant, "please - we need a healer here. Please, you have to…"

But the assistant only shook her head as well. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Do something!" Ron shouted again.

"I can't," Malfoy repeated. "I'm so-" Again, his head snapped to the side as Ron punched him. But this time, Ron continued to punch Malfoy, shouting as his did so. "What have you done to Hermione? Why isn't there a real healer? Why can't you do something?" Ron said as tears streamed from his eyes.

Unnoticed, the assistant held the hand of Hermione Weasley, as staring at the ceiling, she drew her last breath.


End file.
